Maybe Coffee Next Time?
by john6lisa
Summary: Bering and Wells end game. Set ten or so years after HG left the warehouse. Thoughts of the book Myka was starting to write inspired this story. Rated M because of mild cursing and yes, some smut.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 **A/N A few thoughts on 'What If' Myka wrote that book she had started in that episode of season (sorry, had to choke down the bile in the back of my throat) 5. Set ten years later.**

 **I want to give a big shout out to Roberta for all her help.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing of SyFy.**

* * *

 **September 21**

Helena rolled over onto her back with a heavy sigh, the pillow, unconsciously clutched tight against her chest, her other hand fumbling on the nightstand next to her very single bed, tired eyes squinting as she tried to focus on the blurred red light of the clock. She tossed her pillow aside as her fingers gripped the black frame glasses, her head falling back onto her pillow, knowing smudge marks were made by the slip of her finger over them.

"If Charles could see me now," Helena mumbling as she used the corner of her undershirt to clean the lens:

" _Karma, my dear sister."_ her thinking back to all the teasing and whispers behind her mother's back whenever the matriarch would try discreetly to resettle them after slipping down the bridge of her nose. _"Serves her right for forcing me to sit in the parlor, darning socks of all things!," Helena huffed, Charles just shaking his head as she ranted on about the merits of knowing one's way around a workbench or library and not giving a flip if her husband's 'Which will be a cold day in hell' big toe poked through his socks._

Years of stubbornness, of an inflated ego and a hidden fear of wasting away to the cruel hands of time were slowly eroded with the passing of the years she now spent in the solitude of her own choosing. "Yes, yes. I chose the bronzer," lifting her glasses up to the faint glow of her nightlight to inspect for any smudges. "Quite mad at the time, but now," placing the frames on her face, she turned her head to the far corner of her room.

"You do realize that a lifetime ago, I would have destroyed you" Helena raised her finger, tracing designs in the air as she continued. "Well, maybe two lifetimes ago, never was one for creepy crawlies. That is until Myk … a fellow literature lover introduced to me E.B. White's tale of an unusual friendship between one such as yourself and a young swine."

The soft chime of her cell phone interrupted her train of thought, her body reacting as she rose out of bed, moving to the small web in the upper corner, gently removing a few slivers of the silk. "There, let's see how you manage to adjust and compensate with this little engineering design …"

For a few weeks, since her visitor arrived, she idled the sleepless hours away studying the small spider, marveling at its unique web designs, daring to move a silken thread with curiosity as to how it would compensate.

Helena turned on the water in her shower, her fingers testing for the right warmth as she watched her glasses fog up from the steam, entering the shower, a wistful memory flooded her thoughts from another pair of steamed lens: _'a little slice of heaven' she once remarked to Leena, the corner of her lip turning up slightly at the low thud of the half eaten apple falling from Pete's mouth, the feel of her hips brushing inside the terry cloth robe lent to her from the very one whose blush cheeks caused her sashay._

"Heaven" she scoffed, a mist of water formed from those words as Helena mulled over the word. Over how she was raised, or rather forced into the English church as a child, growing more cynical and questioning the teachings as she witnessed the social injustice, the cruelty and disregard for life that was commonplace.

" _Politics and religion,"_

" _Pardon?" Helena startled by the words as she walked with the caretaker, the astrolabe in her satchel clutched against her, the remark bringing her out of the intent search for one last glimpse of curly hair._

" _I believe it best to avoid those two topics if you find yourself forced into conversation." the caretaker opening the back door, her hand resting on Helena's shoulder._

" _I never held much stock in blind faith,"_

" _I hope you find peace one day in whatever calms your soul."_

Helena frowned at her reflection in the steamed mirror, only a sliver of clear from where she had wiped the condensation away. The thought of an almighty being who allowed her Christina to be ripped from her was an all-consuming hatred the first few decades in her bronze prison. She gripped the edge of the sink, forcing herself to stare straight into her eyes, refusing to flee from these thoughts.

Mrs Frederic had cracked the door; Nate's snide remark of _'seeking professional help_ ' as she packed that day was driven further by Adelaide's tear soaked face. Her breaking point, aside from the two weeks spent, many empty containers of ice cream and Gin bottles later, was the door closing on her, Giselle whispering to get some help.

Years were spent with professionals, investment of heart and soul to come to terms with her demons. Finally, a quiet peace started to settle deep inside, but she was realistic, the scars would always remain, only choosing to stir when a quick glance of an oddity in the local paper was read or the yearly greeting card that appeared in her post office box.

 **XXX**

This day was met with the usual routine Helena followed throughout the eight years since moving to this small corner of the states. After Giselle, Helena had contemplated moving back to the old world, a few weeks abroad had her longing for the comfort she had settled into after her reawakening.

" _Be honest"_

The words crossing her lips, the silent mantra she would repeat when those scars started to flare, a suggestion from one of the many Freud wannabes she visited over the years. She stopped just before the door to the post office, her hand gripping but her feet refusing any commands till she owned up.

"Just a million and one chance, a brief glimpse of her," she whispered, frozen in place.

"Ms Wells?" the cheery voice booming from inside the building just as young woman cleared her throat.

"Excuse me, May I?" the closeness of the words compounded by the booming voice vibrating at the glass door caused Helena to step aside.

"Yes, of course. How rude of …" the rest of the words catching at the back of her throat as she looked into a mass of dark curls. Her eyes wide until the small squeak of a child's voice cleared away those thoughts. Helena bowed slightly as she held the door open for the mother and child, following just a few steps behind.

Helena stood patiently behind the young mother, smiling when the young boy would dare to glance up at her, giggling as he would quickly turn away, burying his face in his mother's skirt.

Helena could not help but overhear as the two women prattled on about their Thursday night book club, Helena shuffling from one foot to the other as recipes and odd sounding cocktail names were bantered about.

"And guess what finally came in!" the postmasters voice causing Helena to sigh with gratitude, entertaining the young boy who was intent on gaining every ounce of her attention jumped as the books fell off the counter.

"Here, let me help," Helena smiled with relief, a needed distraction from the incessant staring of the little boy. Both women bent down, the mother becoming distracted as the boy kept trying to escape her grasp. Helena was piling the books on top of one another, hefting them up on the counter, side eyeing the young mother as she placed them in the oversized purse.

"Anything for me?" Helena asked, giving a curt wave to mother and child as they exited the post office...

"Just the usual and of course, your yearly Hallmark," she grinned as she waited with it, Helena not looking up as she scanned her letters.

"Do you want me to stamp it?" the smile falling from her face. Every year, for the last eight years, Helena would always have her stamp _'return to sende_ r' ever since the first year she saw the return address 'Univille, SD'.

Helena stopped, her hand holding a stack of bills, advertisements and junk mail. She set the pile down on the counter, pushing her outgoing mail over to the woman. "What has got the book club so enthralled this month?" her fingers tracing over the raised watermark brand of the card as it sat on the counter.

"Just only the number one bestselling book for the last two months straight!" she beamed. Then ducking down under the counter, Helena was tempted to lean over, curious at all the noise and shuffling going on down under. Then she froze, the full feel of the envelope was pushed against her palm. Helena knew it was some form of a birthday greeting, every year on this date it would arrive.

The soft thump of the book hitting the counter caused Helena to jump back, her hand flying off the card as if it was molten lead. "This is the fifth one in the series," the woman beaming as if she was revealing the whole grail itself.

"I love it no matter what those religious nutballs say," whispering the words to Helena as she leaned closer, sliding the book over. "Love is love and mixed with adventure and the heartache those two go through," she frowned a bit, pushing the book closer as she leaned back. "But all that time travel stuff is a bit confusing."

Helena quickly brushed her hair away from the curtain it had formed around her face, her semi shield from the world around her. "Really? What kind of time travel?" Helena pushing the screaming thoughts back down, deep, buried, not letting that small ember of hope flame.

"Nothing like that Doctor thing on BBC, so confusing," the woman rolling her eyes. "I swear Marge would not stop, going on and on about that timey what its thing 'bout gave us all migraines." the woman then turning to help a man, her hand pushing the book closer to Helena. But she refused to look at, diverting her eyes to anything but that hard back. She straightened her back, clearing her throat and waiting for a break in the conversation.

"What kind of time travel?" her thumb rubbing at the sharp corner of the edge of the book, giving a faint smile to the elder man who was deep in thought as to purchase the young, leather Elvis or the more flamboyant Elvis stamps.

"Good movie, not that silly remake, but the classic," the old man turning to face Helena. "Rod Steiger was the best, nothing compares to the classic." the faint smile of ill-fitting dentures pressed against thin lips. "But nothing compares to the book, a man ahead of his time that Wells fellow."

Helena felt her ears leave her shoulders as she leaned toward the man, "I had a friend, once." Helena then clearing her throat, "Her father used to read that book to her when she was a child," the sudden mist clouding over those brown eyes was not lost on the elder gentleman.

"For my grandson, which stamps would you choose," the voice soft, the touch light on Helena's hand.

"Hey, your name is Wells, any relation? Do I have a celebrity in my post office?" her voice chipper as she leaned between the two of them over the counter. "Say, why don't you join us for our book club?"

The elderly man smiled, nudging Helena's arm, a playful smirk starting to form and Helena wondered if this has been the most entertainment this older gentleman had experienced in some time. "I assure you both that there is no relation whatsoever. Wells is a common name across the pond." Helena forcing a good hearted smile, her thumb pressing harder against the shape corner of the hardback sitting on the counter.

"Shame," the woman sighed as she pulled out the book of Elvis stamps. "Would have been a hoot to introduce you as the great granddaughter of that Wells fellow." she shrugged. "Here, take my copy," the woman pushing the book further into Helena.

"No, really. I can't take your copy." Helena tracing over the front cover, not daring to turn it over for fear of a long ago face looking back.

"Go on, hun. I have two more copies," winking as she turned back to the elder man.

Helena gave a soft sound of defeat, gathering all her mail plus the book into her brown satchel, then sling it over her shoulder. "Well, I should be off, a business to run and what not. A pleasure meeting you sir," the man holding Helena's hand for a brief moment before nodding to her.

"Ms Wells?" the name stopping her as she was just exiting the building.

"Yes?" she smiled back.

"Which Elvis would you choose?" Helena contemplating the question for a brief minute before starting out the door.

"Viva Las Vegas"

 **XXX**

"You're late" the young man snipping as he loaded a tray of cups up on the counter.

"I'm allowed," Helena retorted, standing on her toes to look over the long line of people waiting for their morning brews as she tied the black apron around, securing the knot behind her back. Her booted heel pushing her satchel under the counter, away from the prying eyes.

"What can I get you?" Helena asking the next customer in line, her head down after dealing order after order as she steamed the cup, ready for the last onslaught of early students to class.

"Extra-large Americano, extra shot and room," the soft female asking. Her hand stilling on the cup and handle. _Myka's favorite_ , she silently cursed, deathly afraid to look up for fear of greens eyes.

"Shit!" Helena cursed as the steaming liquid spilt over the brim and down her fingers.

"You okay? I didn't mean to … um...are you alright?" Helena had turned, shaking off the burn and fear of the one thing that she had not made peace with. She let out a cleansing sigh, rubbing her hands down the front of her apron as she willed herself to turn.

"Quite alright, just a hazard of the job," Helena smiling as she looked at a fresh faced, young red-headed girl with azure eyes. _"Nothing like Myka_ ," Helena whispered under her breath as she completed the young girl's order.

"Two Blueberry scones," her young assistant bumping against her as he handed over the brown bag to the tall girl. "Anything else?" he asked as he started to ring up her order.

"Just charge for the pastry," Helena was saying as she handed the steaming cup over to the girl.

"But?" Kurt was frowning, and then punching the order.

"I spilt her coffee, on the house," Helena winked. The girl paying and rushing out the door, a soft 'thank you' floating behind her.

Two hours later and three patrons sipping their libations in random chairs, Helena jumped as Kurt dropped the bin of used plates and cups next her. "You know she has a major crush on you,"

Helena kept her head down, ringing up the till from the last hour, "And who are you referring to?"

Kurt leaned against the counter, hands bracing his weight as he bent his head to meet her eyes, Miss Americano extra shoot with room. You know she has been coming here every day since I told her you bake everything,"

"She is a child," Helena never bothering to look up as she recounted the till.

"She is a grad student working on her doctorate in _English_ literature," his voice dropping as his eyebrows rose.

"And what of it?" Helena moving the bin of used cups back toward the kitchen. "I refuse to have a childish conversation about a girl whom I could be her great … older sister." Helena huffing as she dropped the bin down with a loud clunk to emphasize her point.

"Give it up HG; every time a tall, leggy girl walks in here, you bolt for the cap machine. I mean I get it," Kurt grabbing the freshly washed cups, hand drying them as he followed behind HG.

"Get what? Please, enlighten this ancient relic," sarcasm ignored as he followed her around the coffee shop.

"I get the whole brooding thing, ' _she did me wrong_ ' and what not, god knows I've added a few chaps in that lady handbook of yours," Kurt now grinning ear to ear as Helena glared at him.

"You are a cad and if not for the best cappuccino and proper seeped English tea, you arse would be wiped from the face of the earth," Helena's frustration growing as she lost count of the morning bake till, again.

"Ha ha," Kurt's grin fading as fast as the seriousness rising on Helena's face. His hands slowing at drying the cups as he moved a few steps away from his boss. "I mean ...um...those were just rumors about you being M-6, a secret agent and killing with just your thumb, right?"

Helena sighed, throwing a death glare as she lost count of the till, again. "For the record and I will not repeat this ever again," Kurt leaning a millimeter closer.

"I was employed by the American Internal Revenue Service for said amount of years in the exotic local of South Dakota. I have never or ever been in the employ of this M-6 thing you keep spouting on about," Helena flipping her hand at the young man.

"Fine, got it. You are a stuffy English MILF who receives a Hallmark card every year from the badlands." Kurt tossing the wet rag in the sink, reaching for a dry one hanging on the rack.

"What did you reference?" Helena's voice rising with agitation.

"What? MILF? It stands for Mothers I Like to Fu…" Helena's head was spinning, eyes narrowing as she felt the old tunnel vision take hold. She stepped back with her hand raised "Do not finish that word," fists clenching at her side. "How the bloody hell do you know about the cards?"

Kurt gulped as he inched back, his foot hitting the bag under the counter, "See ... just hold on." his one hand raised as he reached for the bag under the counter. "My mom works at the post office and every year on this day, a card is there for you but you always make her return it."

Swallowing down the lump in his throat, he carefully put the bag on the counter, "Tell me I am wrong, beside other mail …" him looking as he dug through her bag, "There will be no card in here from South Dak…" his voice fading as he pulled out the envelope.

Helena stood there, arms crossed as she watched him rummage through her bag, smiling as to the thoughts of the many ways she could end his existence as he placed the card down on the counter.

"So?" Kurt looking anywhere but at the woman.

"You going to open it?" the soft sound of the front door opening caused them to turn, both sighing relieve that nothing more was to be shared.

"Go clean the cap machine, I have this," Helena spinning around, her smile forward before her thought as she met familiar azure eyes.

"Um, hi," the girl's voice soft but sure as she gave a faint wave. "I was hoping to catch you before you left," her hand extending out to meet Helena's.

"Hello, again," Helena smiled as she shook the girl's offed hand, silently marveling at the firm, sure grip, watching the soft spoken girl standing tall as she held on to Helena's hand. She quickly studies the young woman, catching faint hints as to a young, college age Myka. The mixture of shyness warring with a longing of self-confidence tugged at her.

"And you are?" Helena asked.

"Oh, right, excuse my manners." the girl pulled her hand away, tugging lightly on her collage sweatshirt, her eyes steeling on Helena's. "I am Amy, Amy Smith." her blush just a tint of red as she tried to control herself.

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Miss Smith. I am Helena Wells," trying her best to rein in that classic smirk.

"I was hoping you might like to join me for a cup of coffee and …" looking around the place they were standing in, "Or maybe something else?" her shoulders dipping from her faux pas, but yet her eyes remained calm. Helena could hear the snicker from Kurt all the way from the kitchen.

Her ego making itself known.

"I would be delighted, just let me gather my things," Helena was saying, just as she slung her bag over her, she stopped mid-stride, "I'm to assume you are of legal drinking age, Ms Smith."

The faint blush from the girl almost knocked the wind out of Helena's lungs, only such a hue was seen from Myka in those early years, of the days of deception she had tried to make peace with.

"Go, I'll lock up," Kurt winking from around the kitchen corner.

 **XXX**

Helena reined her smirk when the waiter asked for ID as they ordered drinks, a nice stroll along the boardwalk ended with a small Tiki hut at the end of the short pier.

"My I?" Helena asked, a finger pointing at the ID Amy was now starting to tuck in her billfold.

"Show you mine, show me yours," Amy imededlity clapping her hand over her mouth, head bowed as she handed Helena her ID. Helena chuckled as she reached into her satchel, digging around; she absentmindedly placed a few items on the table as she searched for her ID, Frowning as she came across the old ID of Emily Lake.

"Everything okay?" Amy asked as she nodded her thanks for the drinks the server placed down. Her eyes zeroing in on the unopened card lying on the table as Helena searched for her Warehouse ID.

"What is this? A birthday card?" Amy's hands stilling just before touching the card.

"Perhaps," Helena replied, a tight smile forming across her lips as she started to pull the card away.

"May I?" her fingers grazing over Helena's. "If it is your birthday, don't you think you should open it?"

Helena slugged back her drink, raising her hand to the waitress for another as she sat back in the chair, her head lulling back, eyes half closed as she allowed herself to feel in such a long time.

"Amy, if that is your name." Helena holding her hand up to silence the young woman. "I assume the Regents have sent you to check up on me?" her eyes locking the young agent down. All Amy could do was nod.

"My real name _is_ Amy," she whispered. "Every year, on your birthday, they send someone around to check …" downing her drink, she tugged at the server, requesting another round. The young woman stood up, tapping her foot until the server showed up. Making a quick grab of their drinks, she tilted her head toward the beach, hoping the seasoned agent would follow.

They walked in silence for a few paces, both having taken off their shoes, drinks in hand as they walked the secluded beach.

"So, Amy." Helena taking a small sip of her Scotch. "Tell me, why you?"

"I volunteered for this," the young woman stopping, making quick work of her whiskey. "I watched as they tried to recruit other women for this, you know tall, curls and great looks," Amy shrugged as she quickens her pace. "I know I was not quite your standard, red hair and blue eyes and all. But I am just as near damn smart and have never heard complaints about my long, chicken legs," a blush forming, finding its way down under the soft blue t she was wearing.

"What do they require from your report?" Helena stopping just as a wave washed over her bare toes.

"That you are stable, not wanting to end the world," Amy turning away, holding her hand up as she rushed to the last Tiki bar getting ready to close for the night. "Just give me a sec." she rushed out as she sprinted to the bar.

Helena sighed as she sat down near a coconut palm, laying back, she closed her eyes and listened to the rhythmic sway of the ocean breeze playing a soft tune as it blew through the palms. Helena listened as the young girl ran back to her, the soft clink of the glasses reverberating in her pants.

"You are absolved from the requirement of having sex with me," Helena's eyes closed as she spoke. Not hearing anything from the young woman next to her, Helena turned her eyes half opened as she nodded her thanks for a full glass handed to her.

"And what led you to assume sex was my issue?" Amy looking into Helena's eyes from over the rim of her glass.

"Ahh, if you wish to be my 'handler' for the Regents, I suggest you dye your hair and add some curl," Helena's voice full of sarcasm as she reached around the young agent, grasping for the bottle on her side.

"Helena?" the voice was matched with the grip on Helena's wrist, stilling both their movements.

"I am not Agent Bering," she whispered next to the shell of Helena's ear, both giving a slight shiver from the warmth of the young agent's words.

"Then is this some wanton fantasy, a chance to bed the great HG Wells? With Arthur's disapproval, no doubt," Helena mumbling into her glass.

"Agent Nielsen retired years ago because of his failing health. Agent Bering reluctantly took over his position after months of protests from caretaker Donovan,"

"Only _months_ before Myka gave in?" Helena taking the bottle from the young woman. "So Myka is fully ingrained into the warehouse?" Helena said, sipping on her drink. "Do you know that man completely saw through me? Refusing to shake my hand when I was reinstated the first time?" Helena's words becoming softer and slow as she spoke.

"Myka all but risked her life to help me." Helena becoming silent at the thought of her words.

"It was just a means to an end, to play on her loss as my way into the warehouse," Helena never looking at the young girl as she poured another drink. "Peter was nothing of a challenge, kissing me before he even knew my name. But Myka, when she rounded that corner in my house." Helena sighed as she downed the next drink.

"So, Agent Amy or whatever you are calling yourself. Have I supplied enough intel for your report?" Helena standing up, brushing away the sand on the back of her jeans.

"More than enough, thank you Ms Wells," Amy then grabbing Helena's elbow, both to steady her and the legend walking beside her.

"Just so you know, I read all your books." Helena raising an eyebrow as they walked to Helena's cottage. "Agent Bering had said that you supplied the research and ideas, that Charles was the writer." a smirk playing across the woman's lips.

"Tell me Amy, who is the one that sends a card every year on my birth date?" her arm wrapping tighter around the young woman. "And no fibs, mind you. You best remember to respect your elders," Helena grinning as they made their way up to her home.

"And if I told you?" the young woman pressing her body flush against the other.

"Would not matter, of last word, her and Agent Lattimer are as one." Helena sighing out the last of her words.

"Helena? May I call you by your Christian name?" Amy's words wafting gentle breaths against the nape of Helena's neck. "They broke up years ago, before my time."

Helena just nodded as she tilted her neck a bit to the left, letting this young girl have her way.

"No one should be alone, unloved on their birthday," Amy whispered as she kissed every inch of skin she exposed.

"Are you Myka's gift to me?" Helena cupping the young girl's cheeks between her palms. Helena's eyes misting as she watched the young girl nod. "I'm here, with you, because I choose to be. Not some damn order from the warehouse."

 **September 29**

"Here is the same report I presented to the regents," Myka never looking up as Amy tossed the report on her desk. "Next time you need someone to whore out, don't call me." Amy marching to the rear door.

"How was she …" Amy stilling her hand on the door, her eyes downcast.

"Just come out and ask me," Amy sighed, her head thumping softly against the door. "She got all your cards, returning everyone except the last."

"I noticed," Myka dead panned as she thumbed over the new card sent to her. "Is she well? I mean, health wise, taking care of herself?"

Amy tried to repress her anger, her knuckles turning white at the death grip on the umbilicus door knob. "Why not ask her yourself, _Agent Bering_ " the venom spewing from her words.

"Ah, so you had a connection?" Myka looking back down at her paperwork.

"No! Agent Bering, we did not have wild sex." Amy all but growling. "I do not give a rat's ass if you fire me; kill me or whatever happens to agents here. But I will tell you this," Amy slamming her first down on the table, Myka never flinching. "We held each other all night, me with my convictions refused to allow a person, Helena, to spend her birthday alone."

"Are you done?" Myka never looking up.

"With all due respect Agent Bering," Amy waiting till Myka met her eyes before she left this so called endless wonder.

"I'm listening," Myka said as she capped the old Mont Blanc pen. Her finger sliding over the raised initials of its former owner.

"You are a heartless bitch,"


	2. Maybe Coffee Next Time? Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 **A/N Chapters will be slower in update.**

* * *

"Heartless bitch my ass," Myka mumbled as her fingers toyed at the edge of the envelope. "If anything..." Myka whispering as she watched the slow move of the letter opener blade slice open the scented letter. "I am the one putting it all out there. You just get to reap what I sow," her bottom lip entrapped between gleaming white teeth. Her lips quirking at the slight taste of copper as it rushed upon her tongue.

"Did she answer?" Myka jumping as Pete plopped down on the couch across from her. His legs crossing as he munched on a banana, his eyes never leaving hers as she dropped the envelope.

"Am I a heartless bitch because of…" her words dying in her throat as she side-eyed her ex.

"Because you whore out any new agent that is anywhere close to how you look?" Pete gulping down his last bite.

"Not funny, and a little due respect," Myka huffed as she tossed the half open letter to the edge of her desk.

"Look Mykes," Pete holding up his hand, frowning at the limp peel in his hand, "I get it, HG stole your heart and _'no other woman_ ' compares. Like I am an idiot to go through that with you again," Pete shaking his head as he tossed the old peel into the tin garbage can. "Yes, Lattimer scores!" his arms jutting up as he made two point with his fingers.

"Why do I even bother?" Myka shaking her head as she tossed the open card his way.

"Beats me?" Pete scuffed as he read the letter, "Besides, Artie's scotches were the best. You and this no _'sugar'_ thing is a bummer," Pete mumbled as he scanned the letter. "Have you not read your own books?" his eyebrow raised as he scanned over the half eaten bowl of cookies in his lap.

"Have you?" Myka huffed as she caught the letter Pete tossed back her way.

"It's your story," he hummed as he bit into the cookie. "Add some pics and I might?"

Pete tossed his head back as he watched Amy march into the warehouse, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he smirked at Myka, "Another Ice age cometh?" his hands rubbing over his forearms.

"Asshole," Myka whispered under her breath. Her eyes then controlling the young agents in front of her, "A ping in the south of France," Myka was saying as she handed the thin file over to the young agent.

"Is this a bribe?" the sarcasm not lost on the older agent as Pete lunged forward, yanking the thin file out of the red-heads grasps.

"Agent Smith?" All eyes meeting with dark green, "If for one, brief moment you feel my assignments unjust because of the last field op?" Myka's fingers clinging in a tight grip as she held the thin file firm.

"None whatsoever, Agent Bering," Blue eyes steeling with an unsaid battle of green.

"I never slept with her," Amy leaning close as she gripped the file. "Maybe something you should have done years ago." Her lips brushing against the senior agent's ear. Myka dismissing the passive aggressive shock from the young agent as she lifted her finger, removing the small, moist layer left from Amy's lips off her ear.

"Pete!" Myka's words a rough sandpaper as she eyed her former partner. "A trip to Caen?"

"Yeah, whatever," he said as he jumped up, guiding the young agent to the umbilicus.

"Go, see her already," he whispered as he passed her ear, guiding the young agent out the door, smirking as he tossed the envelope on her desk. "Tell me, oh young Padawan," Pete smiling as he lead Amy out the door, "Have you ever tried a true croissant from the motherland?"

"Mind your own bee's wax," Myka mumbling, her head buried in a file, never raising an eye to the two as they exited the door.

"You should heed your own words," Myka jumping as the old caretaker appeared behind her.

"I forgot about that," Myka giving a nervous chuckle as she spun around, clutching at her heart.

"Have you reread your old books?" the eyebrow raised at her.

"And why should I?" Myka clamping the file shut as she turned around. "They are just fluff pulp books that bored, lonely housewife's eat up." shrugging her shoulders. "I had to have some type of release to sort things out. Taking extra care not to reveal any warehouse secrets." Myka said, eyes downcast at the mound of paperwork on her desk.

"Your life, her life, your life together?" the caretaker raising an eyebrow. The sting and anger coming out in a softer tone.

"Were you not the one that said Pete was _in 'love'_ with me?" Myka mocking out the last of her words. "Some strange talk of children and what not?" Myka sitting back in Artie's old chair. "Tell me, how was that call?" eyes narrowing on a furrowed brow.

"Neither here nor there, the warehouse has joined your souls," Mrs .Frederic narrowing her eyes as she fingered the old statue on Myka's new desk.

"And how is retirement? The cabana boys serving you well?" Myka's eyes downcast as she went over the old paperwork, avoiding the implications of the caretaker's last words.

"Destiny is what binds you and Ms Wells, not you and Agent Lattimer"

"Stop being an arse," Myka responded, Mrs Frederic looking down at the new Artie as her fingers traced over the new 'pings'.

"And so she has the colorful words?" Myka halting her train of words as she gave an apologetic look at the old caretaker.

"The old guard has not forgotten," her face cracking as Claudia appeared before the both of them.

"Not my doing," Claudia raising her hands in surrender as she looked at Myka. "If not for Mrs. F, the warehouse would have taken HG," both women then looking at each other.

"Please, Ms. Donovan, carry on," the deflated look as the old caretaker, a few worn lines hinting at her face, reveled in the new caretakers.

"One way or another, HG would have been yours," the young girl smiling as she squeezed Myka's hand.

"She is not mine," Myka scoffed as she shuffled paperwork on her desk.

"And so the new assignment is dropped in my lap, because?"

"Pfffft, please, like you had a choice!" Claudia scoffed. "Your kids will be running the show as if you and HG had a choice …"

"Ms. Donovan!" Irene huffed as she grabbed the new caretaker. "The future and the Butterfly effects!" the old caretaker mumbled. "Timelines and knowledge of the future?" Mrs Frederic hissed under her breath.

"What kids? What the hell are you two going on about? Helena made her choice," Myka's eyes drifting to the far wall of the small office, the old map of the horn of Jericho still hanging up from long ago. "The last time we were a team," Myka sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. "She prefers models named after wild African antelopes and what not. Not some bureaucrat with gray hair and sagging tits."

"Yeah, right! And you, Mykes, and your perky Tata's have not succumbed to the laws of gravity yet" the young caretaker trying to lighten the cold blast of regret filling the small office.

Claudia sing songed as the old caretaker dragged her along. Slapping her hands together, "Just make sure you do the …" blushing as the old caretaker glared at her,

"Just kiss HG silly next time you see her!"

"Not funny, Claudia." Myka mumbled as she printed out the plane tickets. Waiting till the last of the agents were near the door. "Agent Smith" Myka's voice pulling the agent back just outside the door.

"Her kiss?" Myka stuttering as she rubbed the back of her neck.

"Did you read her note." her fair-freckled skin turning crimson as she dropped her shoulders, her back turning to face the gruff agent back.;

" _The great HG Wells,_ and all that she would mumble in her sleep, was your name." Amy sighed, tucking her ticket in her pocket.

"But she only has eyes for you, even after all the history," the young agent sighing as she walked out the door. Pete dropping his eyes as he spoke,

"Just read her card."

 **XXX**

The whole flight, Myka had tapped the card against her leg, rebuffing the slight flirtations from the flight attendant with every offer to _'Top your drink'_ with a wink.

"Love letter?" the attendant giving a false smile as she passed one last time down the aisle.

"Not really," Myka giving a false smile over the plastic rim of her cup, giving a questionable look as the woman filled her cup.

"It's just," the woman looking over her shoulder, and then raising a finger up as she bent down under the cart. Myka watching with unease as her fingers toyed over the hidden Tesla on her hip. Then letting out an audible sigh as the woman placed the book on her lap, "I know it is against company policy, but, would you mind?" setting the pen down on the cover of the book.

Myka stared at the back cover, grumbling with her editor to release some form a picture for the back cover of her book.

" _That one," Myka sighed as she looked at all the proofs she was forced to take early on after the success of her first novel. Horrid memories of posing as a model and the side effects of Man rays camera caused her to shutter. Her finger landing on the photo that was the least revealing. Her face, half hidden by a gray hoodie and a sheepish smile was her final choice._

"And to whom shall I address it?" Myka clicking the pen after setting her glass down on the tray in front of her, trying her best to repress the harsh roll of her eyes, a strained smile instead as she looked up at the woman.

"OMG! um...Roxy with a Y, if you don't mind, Ms. Freeman?" the attendant looking over her shoulder in all her nervousness. "Do they ever get together?" she whispered as she leaned down, grasping the book against her chest. "I mean Mary and Harriet? They were so made for each other,"

"You, along with my other readers will have to wait and see," Myka smiled, holding up her plastic cup, the ice cubes clinking as she rattled the plastic cup.

"Oh, right, sorry." the woman scrambling for the last mini bottle of whisky as the Captain started to announced that the plane would soon be landing.

"... All trays in their upright positions …" the attendant scrambling to hide the book, giving a curt wave over her shoulder as she readied for the decent.

" _Never a dull moment,_ " Myka mumbled under her breath as she disembarked the plane, moving quickly down the tunnel after the attendant had slipped her phone number in Myka's jacket, the overly friendly flight attendant helping as she struggled to get her carry on out from the overhead bin.

' _Call me_ ' she had mouthed, thumb and forefinger up to her ear as Myka slid by to the nearest exit.

"So much for writing under a pen name," Myka huffed as she finally opened the door to her hotel room, never one to forgo her routine after all these years as an agent; she neatly unpacked her things, folding cloths away, securing her laptop on the desk after smoothing over her jacket she placed over the chair next to it. But not before securing the room.

A long, hot shower was followed, her head cocking to one side as she dried her wet curls, wrapped in a towel, her eyes catching the edge of the envelope on the faux wooden dresser, screaming for her attention. She kept a few feet away, dressing in her old FBI T-shirt and comfy cotton shorts. After a few trips to the mini bar, the last drops drained from the cup she set on her nightstand, she slapped her bare thighs as she got up from the bed.

"Fine," she huffed as she leaned over, grabbing the last mini bottle of Vodka from the mini fridge, her other hand blindly groping at the envelope sitting on top. "Probably some etiquette, old Victorian words ..." her mouth stilling on the rim of the glass as she read the contents.

"Coffee?"

 **XXX**

Myka, whether she wanted to know or not, was kept abridged of HG's location over the years by the Regents. More so since taking over Artie's old position at the warehouse. The first few years she argued with Claudia about sending a birthday salutation to Helena. _"Why scrape open old wounds?_ " she would argue until Mrs. Frederic stepped down. Claudia feeling smug at asserting her will and the unchallenged authority as new caretaker.

"Ms. Donavan, it would do you wise to stay clear of affairs of the heart with agents." the older woman once spoke.

"Yeah, like the great job you did with Mykes and Pete!" both women trapped in a wills of blink those first few months. "Great little tea party you had with Myka, Mrs. F." Claudia would grumble. "I gooed the whole tea set thinking it was some artifact. I mean, how the he... Hades could you think Myka would want a kid, with Pete of all people? Myka had always said a kid did not define a woman."

Mrs. Frederic had sat back, nodding defeat at her words, "And that is why the torch is being passed to you. Seems some of my ideas are antiquated, Ms. Donovan." the old caretaker sighed. "But," her finger rose as to quite her successor, "Some things are destined. Never forget that."

"Like Pete and Mykes?" Claudia scuffed.

"The warehouse requires a strong belief in destiny. The waiver of hearts caused the slight thought of a new location. But remains dormant till all is resolved. Have faith, Ms. Donovan,"

Claudia sighed out a long frustration, sipping on the cold tea. "And what does that mean…" her blowing up a shock of red hair that had fallen over her eyes, the vanishing act from the old caretaker was now becoming as commonplace as her jumbled words of destiny and need for patients.

 **XXX**

Myka's thumb hovered over the send button almost as many times as she sipped her drink, "What the hell," she finally whispered as she pressed the send button, then tossing her phone on the cold, empty side of the queen bed she was in. She had left the last gulp in the cup, padding her way to the bathroom, door open as she took her time flossing. Every moment a hair slow as she readied for bed, extra rinses with her face cloth. Double capping the toothpaste, a finger lingering on the light switch.

A resounding sigh filled the empty room as she settled into bed, forcing herself to not look at the dark screen mocking her just a few feet away. "So she does not call?" a pain radiating through the old scar tissue from a snag, bag and tag gone wrong in her shoulder. At least that was her realization for her new aches and pains. "Fuck the ten added years of abuse," cursing the words as her head fell into the pillow. "I'm going on forty three, not like someone who is pushing 148," her fist hitting the foam pillow, then followed by a heavy thump of her head.

"Morpheus is calling," Myka mumbled in her worst British accent, vaguely remembering Helena's words from many nights spent in cheap hotels, never letting on to the other displaced agent squaring to adjust modern, cheap hotel rooms that just the sound of her accentuated words would lull her to sleep.

"You are such a pussy," Myka's last words falling into the abyss of cheap, two hundred thread count pillowcases as she finally released her mind to sleep.

The distance sound of noise caused her to grope for her phone, cursing out as her glasses fell to the semi clean carpet below. "Finally," she huffed as her fingers gripped her phone, "What?"

"Coffee, 1000am. You know the address, Agent Bering," with that, the phone went dead. Her sleep addled brain just barely remembering the gist of the words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Myka cursed under her breath as she marched the claustrophobic like area of the room that morning. Her fingers groping for any and all things to keep her mind focused.

"We have secured the artifact in an old antique shop." Agent Amy Smith sighed into the Farnsworth.

"Tell Mykes I bargained him down to two hundred pounds!" Pete's voice heard in the background.

"You do realize that it is three hundred _'American_ ' dollars," both agents saying at the same time.

"Jinks!" Pete pushing his way next to the young redhead in view of the small screen of the black and white screen, his grin starting to fall as Myka glared at him. "Um, I mean, you both saying the same thing at the same time and you know … jinks?"

"Pete," Myka sighed as she nodded to the young agent in her small view of the Farnsworth.

"Pete, go check on the static bag, okay?" Myka leaning against the door jamb of the bathroom as she smiled, the stern tone reminding her of how she used to handle Pete when they were talking to Artie on the old device.

"Question, Agent Smith?" Myka asking in a soft tone as she watched the wild curls of red hair turn back to her.

"Considering I invested somewhat of myself into the care of ex Agent HG Wells," the young woman pausing as she collected her thoughts.

"Go on," Myka said in a monotone voice, cursing herself tenderly as her stomach flipped.

"She made me stand outside her office door till she was finished with her card. Not that I was spying, but I knew she put a lot of thought into it." Myka was watching as the cup of coffee brewed, her hand flapping as she touched the hot cup, the young girl frowning as she watched the older agent blow on her burnt fingers.

"Guessing from the short time of writing, as to compare to the long thought before …"

"You do realize that I am giving you a free pass considering what the Regents asked of you?" Myka blowing on the tips of her burnt fingers as she set the Farnsworth down on the counter of the desk next to the coffee maker.

"So noted," Amy said with something not quite a tone of respect that battled with her inner self and respect for the older agent.

"Thank you," Myka whispered as she poured a splash of cream into her coffee.

"I know it is not my place or any such thing, but she really misses you," the young red head sighed into the old device.

"Let's stick to the artifact, shall we?" Myka's voice cold as she sipped the burnt water.

"Fine, whatever, just my two cents worth," Amy huffed as Myka toyed with her jeans in the drawer.

"Agent Smith?" Myka not relishing her voice asking the question.

"Tell Pete to add the cost to the verbatim and, skinny jeans or more relaxed?" Myka's head tilting to both pair as she thumbed through her drawers.

"What? Skinny or what?" Amy's voice raising an octave as her brow furrowed.

"Never mind," Myka huffing, trying her best to retrace the question as she pulled a pair of loose fit from the drawer. "Just note what you two spent on the case report and I will review it when I get back." Myka now biting her bottom lip at her faux paus.

"Are you there?" Amy's voice soft as she held her phone against her ear, having shut the Farnsworth down.

"I expect a full report on my desk when you two return," Myka's voice shutting down the younger agent. Myka then slapping her forehead as she turned to her closet, trying her best to ignore her slip up.

"We have four days before your return?" Myka trying to ignore the tone in the younger agent's voice as she thumbed through the matching bras and panties she had stowed away.

Amy looked at her phone, sighing to herself as she knotted her fingers through her thick, red locks, "Fine, I am just going to say this," Myka looking at her phone as she sat back on the old, cheap bed.

"I would trade all there is for just a moment of whispered words she spoke of you," Amy swallowing hard to repress her other thoughts.

"And ten years of nothing? Of the love of your life finding pleasure in another's arms?" Myka hissed into the phone. Her throat feeling rough as she swallowed hard, the silence more than deafening as she moved to the cheap dressing closet.

"I apologize, Agent Bering. It is, was not my place." Amy swallowed hard.

"How are the blueberry scones?"

"What? Sorry, what did you ask?" the young agent turning to the bathroom as she brushed Pete away from her. His eyes furrowing as his gut churned as the young agent slammed the bathroom door behind her.

"I spent months going to her bake shop, watching as that idiot man made coffee and trying every baked good in the place," Amy sighed as she collapsed on the cold lid of the toilet bowl.

"And I should thank you?" Myka's voice every end of sarcasm as she sank back on the edge of the tub in the hotel.

"God! You are such an ass. No wonder you two never got together," Amy huffed as she threw herself back against the bowl.

"And just because you spent the night, entangled with your literary hero gives you the insight into years of …" Myka's voice fading as her brain cells joined in. Her finger coming up to her lips as she silenced her thoughts.

"Between your books and the one night we spent together, " the silent sigh weighing heavy as Myka pressed her phone closer to her ear.

"You said you never had cardinal knowledge of one another?" Myka gulping down her words, her mind fighting with thoughts of what could have been, her eyes shut tight as she tried to block out thoughts of red hair between those thighs.

"Myka?" the fade of the voice slowly drawing her to the here and now.

"What?" Myka growled, internally cursing herself as her unspoken words rose out and from her throat.

"Got to go, Pete is killing the mini bar of nuts and candy," Amy rushing her words.

"Nice save, Agent Smith," both women smirking as Myka spoke. Amy glad for the cut off, Myka done with talk of Helena. Myka's mind drifted to the small card sitting on the edge of her night stand as Pete grabbed the phone, droning on about the food, of 'Agent Amy's' misunderstanding of his love for food and some dumb sports team.

XXX

"Okay, what gives?" Kurt asked as he steamed the last two set of trays for the cap machine. His eyes shifting from the steam of the cap machine to his boss pacing the small back counter.

"Never you mind," Helena blurted out as she dusted off the last of the flour on her black apron, smiling to the young couple who leaned over the glass counter, their eyes wide as they perused over her fine pastries.

"Since when were you okay with folks leaning over your works of art?" Kurt smiling as he handed over the two cups to the young couple milling over the fine pastries.

"Go fuck yourself," Helena gritting low through her teeth as she opened the back door to her finest. The young couple lost in that smile as they fused over which sweet treat to share.

Helena had lost herself in the fine intricacies of each pastry the couple was eying, explaining every nuance to each puff, she ignoring the low tingle of the doorbell as the tall agent stepped inside. The low drone of flirtation was lost on her as Kurt asked for the order.

"A dash of cardamom makes for a unique crust …" her words cut short by the repeated request of 'extra room'. Her mind snapping from the drone 'um hum' from Kurt as she turned. Her pulse racing at the hopes the Regents had sent another 'knock-off' to check on her. Her breath catching on as she reached for the smaller scone the young woman was requesting, her beau leaning in with his finger as Helena fauxed a smile as she wrapped up the sweet treat.

"Coffee Americano with an extra shot and room comes to …" Helena's head snapping at the man's voice as he rang up the cup of coffee.

"On the house," Helena's curt voice covering Kurt's hand, slowly daring to look up.

"Nonsense," the husk of that voice from long ago tossed a twenty on the counter. "I pay my own way," Kurt grinning as he took the bill, ringing up the register.

"Close the shop," Helena stated, not asking as she tossed her apron behind her. Her eyes as black as coal as she stared at Kurt, not daring to look back as she gathered her things.

"You know it is just before the lunch rush?" his eyes wide as he watched his boss pour another large cup of Americano with extra shot and room.

"Are you sure?" he asked as she bent down, grabbing her purse as she stopped in front of the pastry counter. "I thought the lunch rush was your high? Dealing with all the kids and business suits?" his brow now furrowing as he looked up as the tall woman cleared her throat.

"Things change, as do people," Helena replied as she rounded the counter.

"Um, sure boss." Kurt stuttered his eyes wide as he tried in vain not to ogle the stunning woman who stood tall in front of the glass pastry counter, him watching the tall woman watching his boss and friend round out the counter. The tall woman giving a faint smile as she followed, then holding the door open as his boss nodded, and was that a smirk she gave her?

 _Myka had ignored the faint, yellow flashes of lightning down the road. "Come hell or high water," she mumbled to herself as the flashes grew brighter. The address of the bakery just a few clicks away as she made her way down the sidewalk to the bakery. Her stomach churning as her hand stilled on the knob of the small store, gathering what little strength with each low rumble of thunder behind her._

"So, thought for sure you would say no," her eyes never leaving the brim of her coffee as she felt the smaller woman following her to her car.

"It is going to storm," Helena's voice coming out as a ghost of a whisper as she stopped, her back against the brick wall near the alley as she watched the taller woman walk to her rented car, her eyes never leaving the hold of those lips on the rim of the paper cup.

"And so what of it? Will precipitation stall your words?" her eyebrows raised over the paper rim of the take out cup as Myka turned left, bee-lining for the monkey bars of the playground of the park they now walked by.

"I am not made of sugar, of which you are too familiar with; I shan't melt from drops of rain." Helena sighed as she made for the chain swings in the middle of the park.

"So you want to jump right into the psych thing with Christina?" Myka sighing as she sat down in the small swing.

"Not really, I know you have read over sections for the last ten years." Helena running her hand through her dark locks. "I have made peace with Christina," Helena sighed as she sat in the next swing, watching her feet as she pushed herself away.

"So it is just me you have not come to terms with?" Myka's voice was sincere, not a hint of malice, maybe a hint of, dare Helena think, care?

Myka sighed. Helena never noticing the heated anger building up as the tall woman stood up, taking long strides to the near garbage can.

"Fine, Helena." Myka sighed as she ran both hands through those thick curls. "Let's start with Boone," she quipped as she fumbled in her left jacket pocket, Helena's brow furrowing as Myka pulled out the small pack of cigarettes. Helena glaring as Myka's thumb flicked at the cheap plastic lighter.

"Here," Helena huffed as she stood from the swing, her hand grabbing the lighter; Myka's fingers limp as she let go control. "Since when did you pick up this filthy habit?" the glow of the small flame lighting up the gold flecks in the backdrop as Mahogany eyes narrowed.

Myka ignoring the harsh words as she held Helena's hand steady, puffy to light the cancer stick.

"Since Pete and I broke up," Myka saying absentmindedly as she blew a puff of smoke up and away from Helena. Her finger tapping the ash away as she walked toward the small merry go-round in the middle of the park. Helena shaking her head as she watched the younger woman spit out the old piece of tobacco gum.

"So lady like," Helena snorted in a hushed whisper.

"Really?" Myka fumed as she turned on her heels, the death glare causing Helena to reel back, sitting as the back of her knees hit the edge of the wooden bench.

"Don't you dare use that tone of upper superiority with me?" Myka's finger holding the cigarette as she neared the woman.

"I get it," she paused, dragging a hard, long toke, her eyes never leaving the older woman.

"Get what, Darling?" Helena never looking up as she brushed at the invisible lint on the thighs of her black pants.

"Don't you dare use that tone with me!" Myka tossing her cig away as she stalked closer, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the wooden plank on the top of the bench Helena was perched on.

"That first year, I get it," Myka growled in front of Helena's face. "Use me, my grief for Sam to weasel your way back into the warehouse." Helena trying her best to hide the harsh gulp as Myka moved mere inches from her face. The heat, reverberation of the strong grip on either side of Helena's head was not lost.

She cursed herself at the uncontrolled heat coursing through her blood with each harsh word Myka spewed at her. The guilt of Christina and the revenge murders of her killers had been resolved years ago. But the gnawing guilt of how she used Myka was a festering boil that now reared its pus- filled head.

"Stop," was a silent plead as Helena tried to turn her head from the venom now spewing against her soul.

"Don't you dare turn your head away from me!," Myka's words were followed with small sprays of harsh spit as her fingers gripped Helena's jaw, making the older woman look upon the fierce green eyes. Her face, a small bit of guilt ridden soul soften for just an iota as she watched the faint shimmer of gold flecks from the pain Helena had caused flash before her.

"I believed in you," Myka's words fading as fast as the harsh, red prints her fingers made on Helena's jaw. "In us," Myka covering her hand over her mouth as she tried in vain to cover the shaking in her shoulders.

"Great, just great!" Myka shouted as the heavens opened up, a deluge of water now soaking them. "Fucking great," she snarled as she tried to light the now soaked cigarette as she spun away from Helena. Her shoulders slumping as she tried to ward off the rain.

"My place is just a hop and a skip …" Helena was now saying as she took off her coat, holding it over the best she could of the taller woman.

"I will never set foot in any place that you have fucked someone," Myka snarled as she turned, a studded of step now causing her to lean under the makeshift shelter Helena was desperately trying to provide with the crude attempt of her jacket.

"Then lead me to the Lions' den," Helena sighed. "I deserve every comeuppance,"

Myka frowned at the soaked fag in her hand, tossing it away in disgust as she started to walk back to her rented car.

"You know Helena?" Myka started to say, her hand coming up to wipe away the rain that clouded her eyes, her curls sticking to her neck as she slid her hand around, flicking her fingers of the water off them.

"Yes, Darling?" Helena whispered, not daring to gaze upon those wet, rain soaked fingers as Myka shucked off the precipitation staining her face.

"Stop …"

Helena watching as Myka raised her forehand, pressing her palm against her rain- soaked forehead. "Stop calling me that if you truly do not mean It." the rain drops becoming muddled with the stream of tears that ran down Myka's cheeks.

"May I?" Helena offered as she held the passenger door open for the younger woman.

"You may," Myka replying in a hushed tone, turning her face as she sat into the big SUV, her head turned as she wiped harshly against her nose with the back of her hand. She stayed silent, her eyes side-ways as she watched the older woman slip into the driver's seat of the rental.

"Assuming you have taken on the thrift ways of Artie, may I assume you are booked at the motel down the street?" Helena stated, more than asking as she drove them down the road.

"Maybe," Myka sniffing into her shirt sleeve as she dragged it across her face.

"The Hilton has me on file," Helena said in a nonchalant voice as she turned the corner.

"Of course they do, nothing but the best for the great HG Wells," Myka sniffed, her shoulders squaring as she sat up in the seat of the black SUV she had rented.

"You think me that shallow?" Helena's tone trying to mask the lace of disgust in her voice as she put the big gas guzzler in park in front of the door of room 13.

"Helena, I am in no mood," Myka sighed, huffing as her fingers tangled in the wet curls. Her eyes lifting to the numbered room before them. "You really think I am that shallow?"

"Meaning?" Helena asked as she tried to speed around to the passenger door, a frown forming as Myka opened her own door without the pomp of the Victorian grasping for the handle.

"Here, Wells." Myka saying as she tossed the room key to the woman next to her. "Seven was always a lucky number," Myka smirked. The flood of the almost kiss in that small, cheap hotel did not escape the two women as Helena smiled, her hand reaching up for the tossed key.

"And if I had known?" Helena smirked as she turned the lock, her head bowing as she held the door open for Myka to enter.

"Too bad you were using me," Myka whispered as she bee-lined for the bathroom.

"Which I shall regret till the end of days," Helena whispered, allowing her eyes to wander to the sway of hips that past her.

"I heard that, Wells," Myka saying as she tossed the wet, rain soaked shirt out the door of the small bathroom. "Mini bar is on me," Helena smiling as she ducked away from the tossed shirt.

"Gin or that smoky whiskey you were so fond of?" Helena was asking as she put the plastic cups on top of the fridge. Her fingers toying with the small bottles as she scanned the mini bar.

"Surprise me," Myka's voice drifting out of the crack of the bathroom door. Smirking to herself as she scrubbed over her arms. Knowing full well Helena had heard every word. "Wells?" Myka was asking, knowing full well Helena hated when Myka used her last name.

"Yes, my Darling?" Helena putting full on that old British accent she knew Myka detested, her green eyes rolling in disgust as Helena laid it on thick in their days of early snag, bag and tag.

"Can I help it if you Yanks cream at the accent?" Helena would shrug as they made their way back to the warehouse.

"Not all of us Yanks," Helena smirking as it was the best retort her young American would reply. Her fondness for the young woman growing, her detest at herself for using Myka knowing no bounds.

" _If you only really knew,"_ Helena would play as her retort in her head at the agent's remark, knowing full well if she just read any book, Myka would be putty in her hands. She, Helena George Wells, would melt at the touch of those long hands on any exposed part of her skin.

"Part of me despises you," Myka was remarking as she swung the door to the bathroom open, never flinching as it bounced off the cheap drywall. Her smile spreading as she watched Helena jump up from the mini bar, her hands shaking with their libations as she gritted her teeth. Trying her best to ignore the soft squeeze of the dirty carpet under her bare feet. Paying extra mind to sway her towel clad hips as she crossed the room.

Myka was hell bent on making Helena regret her choices, for pushing her aside in favor of that white bread family she thought she was found in Boone. Never mind the thought of Giselle, of whatever that Blonde's name was in New York.

She wanted Helena to regret every lost second they could have shared together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Myka was shrugging her jacket on over warm, dry clothes, both had decided while she had been changing that another coffee was in order.'I would like to see the shop; maybe the owner would honor me with a small tour?'

'That could be arranged. I have a unique bond with said owner.' Helena letting her smirk curl slowly across her lips as she held the room door open for Myka...

"No ego there," Myka letting a small, genuine laugh escape as Helena slightly bowed.

"How long till your flight?" HG asked, hands buried deep in her dark brown trench coat as they walk along the small, brick paved sidewalk.

"Three days. I have one book signing I have to do at the downtown Hilton tomorrow morning and the flight leaves late the next night." Myka replies, looking straight ahead, she fiddles with the small trinket Helena had given her so many years ago. As her fingers toyed around the smooth edges as she thought back to that day in Cairo.

 _The market was becoming more crowded as they walked a few steps behind Valda and Pete._

 _Myka had always felt uncomfortable in large crowds, heightened more so when she was on protection detail with the secret service. She felt Helena's palm, pressing her hand at the small of her back, guiding them to a small booth near the edge of the market place._

' _Just a moment's time?' Helena's voice, soft and so near her ear caused a cool shiver to the stark contrast from the stifling heat of so many in such tight confines. The accented words so near her cheek startled her._

' _You guys coming?' Pete yelled out over his shoulder, pulling the sweat-soaked shirt away from his stomach._

" _This heat," he shrugged, distracting the Regent away from his hand now gripping his stomach. Pete knew that the Regents were aware of his 'special gift' the hinky vibes he would get._

' _We shall be along quite shortly, Peter.' HG replied to the two distant men ahead of them._

 _Myka turned to face Helena, watching the woman wave to the men who were nearing the Rover. 'I sensed you could use a moment's reprieve away from the crush of bodies.' Smiling at the tall woman, Helena remembered back to those long, late in the evening talks they would have. The B &B was almost as quiet as Myka's voice when she told Helena of her nervousness when in crowds, no matter what age she had been._

 _Myka turned back to see Helena handing the old woman some money, not quite able to catch what Helena was tucking into her long jacket._

' _Agents Wells and Bering?' Myka responding to Valda's voice when suddenly, again feeling the small hand pressing into her back, urging them along to the others._

" _And what was so urgent that you felt the need to hold us up, Agent Wells?' Valda's voice dripping with frustration and annoyance as he started the Rover._

' _You know women, always shopping,' the lightness of his words, the boyish grin, was now fading quickly from the glares directed at Pete from Myka and Valda._

 _After they arrived at the dig site, Helena watched as Pete left to take a call, Valda was near the vault door, reading the inscriptions, she watched as Myka wandered into one of the tents._

 _Helena had knocked on the wood frame of the tent, stepping in; she reached into her pocket as she neared the agent. 'What's up, Helena?"_

 _Helena could not, now or ever hide the growing smile every time Myka would say her name, the almost intimate inflection, American accent or not, this being no exception, she pulled the small piece of polished stone out of her pocket, curled in her fist as she held it out toward Myka._

' _A small token of my gratitude for all you have done for me,' Myka tentatively reached out, and then grasped Helena's closed first before the woman could open it._

' _Whatever it is, I will always cherish it, Helena.' both women following each other's eyes, traveling at a slow sounjour until meeting entwined hands. Helena gasped silently as she watched those long, sure fingers unfurl hers. The small tugging at her heart had clamped down the raging guilty of betrayal, opening up that small chamber in her heart. Long repressed feelings begin to ebb and flow as moisture welled up in her eyes._

' _Isis,' Myka whispered as she took the small, one inch carved deity from Helena's palm._

' _Wisdom, Yes, she was the Goddess of health and …'_

' _Wisdom' Myka finishing Helena's sentence._

' _This is so … special, Helena' Myka holding the smooth piece in her one hand as she pressed herself against Helena, her other hand resting on Helena's cheek as her thumb gently caressed just below her ear. Myka's brow furrowed as she stared into those dark eyes, now moist, giving sheen to those gold flecks dotting against Mahogany._

' _My darling, Myka.' the breath of those words brushed against Myka's lips, her thumb stilling as she tilted her head, never looking away from those deep pools as she brushed her lips against those ruby one's that so often invaded her dreams of late._

' _I felt that, by the way, your hand brushing mine in the market.' Myka's breath coming a little labored, Helena refusing to release the strong grip of her arms around Myka's neck._

' _I fenge innocents' Helena was saying as she pulled them closer, teasing Myka as she hovered her lips a breath away, then in a swift move, started her descent just under Myka's ear, teeth nipped at light, sun-kissed skin, soothing the light sting of teeth away with purposed kisses._

' _Right, just like now? Your body pressing me …' Myka let out a gasp as she felt the table against her lower back, a swift and steady movement from Helena directing their bodies to the nearest piece of furniture. Myka rested her arms on either side of her hips as Helena's forward movement caused her legs to open wide, allowing the older woman to move flush against her body._

' _Such strength and beauty,' Helena whispering her words as her lips worked across that strong jaw, her tongue chasing that lone bead of perspiration seeking escape down the low cut of that ,brown shirt Myka was wearing._

' _Helena' Myka rasped against the crown of silk black locks, her two fingers pushing away a small lock of black hairs away from that smooth, lily white neck, tucking the follicle escapee's around Helena's ear. The sweet, tender gesture halted Helena's fingers that were traversing the brown leather belt on Myka's pants._

' _Please' came out as a shaky plead as Helena's fingers invaded just under the hem line, pulling the tucked, brown shirt out and away from the small of Myka's back._

' _Please allow me the honor,' Helena was whispering, teeth pulling at the brown ridge of that scooped neckline, her fingers tracing over quivering, taunt stomach muscle as they searched for the prize they so desperately desired just under the tight confines of that Maidenform, c-cup prison._

 _Myka leaned all her upper weight on her arms that gripped the tabled, Helena letting a small, gritted moan between her teeth that gentle now had a clothed covered nipple in their grasp. The almost pain from Myka's booted heels digging into her upper, bare thighs caused her to rock her hips forward, both women gasping at the heat they felt. Helena's stomach was burning with each second from the press of Myka's jean-covered center pressing against her, with each tight squeeze from those long legs wrapping around her bare legs,_

 _Helena tugged a bit firmer, the harden, clothed nipple between her lips and teeth pushed more into her with each soft scrape of trimmed nails against her scalp. Myka's one hand, fingers tangling, blunt nails raking near the base of her head as she felt that other hand sliding up under her dark tank top. Helena smiled, teeth still holding the clothed nipple between as she felt those strong fingers pause for just an iota on her grappler, still tethered to her belt. Her thoughts were yanked away as she felt those fingers rushing under her tank, bunching just under her bra._

' _Myka, HG. Time to go, Valda thinks he's got the …" Pete's voice becoming louder with each word. Then the gut-churning vibe as he reached for the flap of the tent knocked him to his knees, a small cloud of dust settling down on the palm of his one hand that was bracing his full weight on the ground._

' _Bloody hell' Helena cursing under her breath as she jumped out of the released grip of those long legs, tugging her tank top down, her hand reaching back to secure her grappler. She helped Myka to tuck her shirt in, giving a quick peek on her cheek, feeling both their frustration at the interruption._

' _Be there in just a sec,' Myka's half muted voice hit his gut even harder, his fingers digging into the sand, forcing himself to jump quicker then he would have like to. He felt like he was five again, walking into his parents' bedroom as he caught them …_

' _Nope, not going down that road,' he gritted, forcing his body away from the tent, hearing behind him as Myka called his name in the same shaky tone his Mom had that night when he raced back to his room._

"How are the sessions going?" Myka asks, her eyes staring straight ahead.

"I seem to find myself in need of new therapist," Helena replying as she kicked a small pebble away from Myka's footfalls. "And before you speak, yes. I have found some inner forgiveness." Myka catching the fading smile as they turned into her bakery shop.

"Kurt, you can leave," HG cutting off the boy's greeting as she closed the door behind them.

"I shall open at the usual time in the morning, scones will not cook themselves." Kurt slinging his bag over his shoulder, his grin growing as he neared the tall woman seated near the door.

"Don't even, little boy" Myka's voice flat as her gold badge fell from her purse as she searched for any cigarettes, gum or patches, "For Christ sake, no damn nicotine, "she cursed under her breath. Helena had busied herself behind the cold stock counter, watching as she shook her head.

"Lock up on your way out, Mr. Kurt," Myka turning just in time to catch black hair ducking under the counter.

"Baking makes sense," Myka replied as Helena shot up with a small box marked lost and found.

"As in my love for creating, following a set formula such as the discipline for confections?" Helena speaking with a bit of that long ago smugness, a faint spark of warmth working its way across Myka's cheeks as the woman neared.

"Here, they may not be that cowboy brand," Myka catching the small pack Helena tossed to her, "But it should quill that filthy habit for a bit." Helena trying to hold her frown, but those lips betrayed her as she watched the cat like reflexes of Myka's quick grab in mid-air.

"I really should give theses up," Myka saying, her head then lifting as she looked around. She knew she should, after the cancer scare; Myka had gone ' _Full on health freak,_ ' as Pete had put it way back when. She shook her head, the musing erased as she looked up to Helena.

"Back door to your left," Helena spoke, her eyes trained on closing out the shop "Should be a book of matches above the electric meter out in the alley." Helena lifting her eyes just a touch, sighing as she watched Myka's beautiful form walk toward the back.

As soon as she heard the metal door shut, she wiped her hands, digging in her back pocket for her phone, quickly dialing the old number, "Oh for bloody sake, pick up already," Helena was softly cursing as she leaned over the counter.

"Such language is still frowned up, Ms. Wells," the posh accent of the retired Regent answering.

"Forgive me Mr Kosan, but I find myself at a rush with little time and I was wondering if that offer for the use of Dr. Cho is still on the table?" Helena thought back to the call she had received from the Regent years ago, offering the services of the warehouse innkeeper. Both agreeing that certain secrets were allowed in the presence of the Doctor.

"I shall email the place and available times, acceptable Ms Wells?"

"Yes, quite, till then." cutting the man off in mid-sentence as she ended the call

"Hey, HG, bathroom?" Myka voice causing the older woman to rush her words, wishing she could of ended their conversation more cordial. Helena narrowed her eyes, catching the quick slip of Myka's phone back into her pocket.

"To your left, Darling." silently cursing herself at the ease of her word of endearment for the agent. "There are toiletries under the cabinet." knowing that Myka wanted to freshen up.

Helena gathered their things, locking the back door, she then sat, arms folded, purse and coats draped over her arms. Then she felt it, the small stone inside the jacket, pressing in her forearm as Myka's coat lay across her arm.

"Feel like grabbing some dinner before I turn in tonight?" The question throwing Helena off caused her a miss-punch in the code of the alarm for the cafe. The alarms piercing sound caused Myka to jump, coming up behind Helena as she shrugging her jacket on. "Want me to give it a go?" Helena bowing as she waved her hand at the flashing pound box.

"The code is …" Helena becoming flush at the loud sound of her voice just as the alarm shut off. "And how did you know the code?" her eyes narrowing as Myka leaned against the wall, that lopsided grin causing a small heat wave of desire where annoyance would have been. Myka just smiled, giving Helena a knowing look as she shrugged on her coat, a look she all too well remembered from years again.

' _Trying to one-up the great HG Wells'_ was the look that would follow, Helena crossing her arms just under her breasts, knowing all too well the effect it had on the younger agent. It was her slight revenge at Myka, the soft, pale cheeks growing in hues of crimson as the younger would avert her eyes away. Helena refused to let on to her embarrassment, that she was _'one upped'_ knowing full well the effect of accenting her attributes.

But Helena was not prepared for the sharp pain of guilt that hit her heart. Once what worked so well on her old adversaries and fellow agents during her time at warehouse 12 as a diversion from any slip now became a curse of pain. Helena, now, so many times chastised herself for using such a 'Neanderthal' tactic on Myka in their earlier times together; _"A war of guilt versus … respect?_ " Her one therapist had asked. Helena had not divulged the true details of Yellowstone; her play on words afforded a slight insight, for her Doctor at the time.

"Let me guess, Claudia and the warehouse. All knowing and seeing and of course would have the codes for anything involving me," Helena huffing, "I am a fool to think I could ever escape that 'world'. Endless wonder, indeed." Helena pouted, during her rant, Myka had opened her car door, helping Helena in, allowing for the anger to die down.

"No, Claudia or the warehouse. Well, if not for the warehouse and meeting and reading about you." Myka grinned as she had turned, watching that hot temper twist to confusion as she buckled her seatbelt. Starting the engine, she drove toward the fancy hotel downtown, having called up the place then making arrangements for her move.

"I am intrigued," Helena saying as she crossed her arms, looking at the beautiful profile of Myka, the faint yellows of the street lights casting a urethral glow as they drove.

"Simple, Atlas 1866." Myka stated with aplomb as she shifted the car into park.

"You do realize that we have arrived at the wrong hotel, Agent Bering." Myka looked down, shaking her head as she grabbed Helena's hand. Helena was so mesmerized by the soft, waving curls; she did not realize that she had entwined her fingers with Myka's.

"Nope, quite sure this is the right place. I called earlier and switched out hotels while I was outside. Heard they have a three star Michelin rated restaurant. So what do you say, Helena?" lifting their entwined fingers, pressing them against her lips. "Care for some diner?"

Myka got out, handing the keys to the valet, Helena still sitting in the car processing all of this.

"You coming, Wells?" Myka said, hand on her hip as she started to walk inside.

"Righty-ho then." she walked quickly, catching up to Myka who was at the front desk, signing a few things then turned to follow the finger of the man.

"Well now, seems I shall be dining with a famous literary," Helena narrowing her eyes as she looked at the poster near the closed doors to the conference room just on the other side of the lobby. A big poster was sitting on an Edsel near the closed doors, _'A Moment in Time'_ in Victorian style print sat just above the picture Myka had selected so many years ago, her face half hidden by the grey hoodie.

"Hmm, a one Ms Betty Freeman shall be discussing her latest work and with a signing no less." Helena hummed, tracing the glossed, half hidden jaw on the poster. "I do so hope to meet this writer." Helena releasing an over dramatic sigh as Myka bumped her hip, grabbing Helena around her waist as she led them to the restaurant inside.

"Play your cards right and I might get a signed copy for you," Myka giving a sarcastic grin in her most endearing way as she held the chair out for Helena.

Diner, for the most part was pleasant, the food was outstanding and on many occasions, both women would insist the other try. Myka was doing her best to maintain a blank look, her insides screaming to want to react with each small moan Helena would hum as she would pull her fork back after offering Helena a sample.

Their eyes would quickly dart away, catching the other staring: Myka watching as the morsel of food was entrapped by those lips as she would pull her fork slowly back from Helena's mouth. _'Good gravy!'_ Myka remembering her Grandmother's saying when things were not going right. She had so wanted to turn the tables on Helena, wanting the older woman to pine for her.

Realize that letting her go was a huge mistake on Helena's part, even when Myka had found out years before that Mrs. Frederick was the one who sent Helena away without as much as a goodbye, her analytical side knowing it was the right choice in order to save Artie and the warehouse. Then her, a split second later, squashing down the sharp, searing pain of her heart screaming out _'What about saving us?'_

All her life was spent putting the need of the many before the need of the one, of herself, making for the perfect secret service agent to guard and protect others, but dismal to her own self being. Her years of low thoughts of self-worth were now eroding with each second she spent in Helena's presence, pride and self-esteem were enveloping her, shattering the thick walls of protection, warming the cold blood that ran through her veins for so many years since that day in Boone.

Helena, on her part, would try furiously to wipe away any thoughts of improprieties, of wishing the fork was replaced by Myka's finger. The exceptionally well-aged bottle of wine, near empty by the third course, was ebbing away any resistance Helena was trying to maintain.

"I am to deduce that you have secured a suite in this establishment?" Helena's low, almost heathen timbre caused Myka to still her hand that was resting on her glass of wine.

"Maybe?" her lips parting with her response, both women watching as Myka's calloused trigger finger traced over the rim of her wine glass, their eyes meeting quickly at the soft note reverberating from the friction of her finger tracing over the lip.

"And when did you make such arrangements?" Helena asking, her tongue slowly piercing her lips, a languid sweep on a dry, plump bottom caused Myka's breath to hitch. Her arm rose, snapping her fingers to gain their waiters attention.

"When I tossed those pack of smokes into the dumpster, and yes …" crossing her arms together, resting her weight on them as she leaned forward, "I let the conceraire send someone for my things. A total stranger touching my things," Myka smirked, reaching for the half full wine glass Helena was nursing.

"I remember you having packed up all your belongings before we left that sub-pare motel. So as to deduce from that, you were planning to switch to this …" Helena then lacing her fingers with Myka's outstretched hand on hers, "And with the appointed book signing," Helena kissing over each knuckle, Myka's labored breathing was interrupted by the slight clearing of the waiter's throat, then placing the ornately wrapped boxes in front of each woman.

"And you assumed we would prefer our desert …?" Helena quirking a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her eyes though, never leaving Myka's. She watched as Myka gave her a soft smile, then turning curious as she winked her head then looking down at the bill, her hand a quick blur as she signed the check.

"The meal was beyond divine and I am assuming a bottle is being delivered to my room as we speak?" Myka making quick work of signing her name, then handing the billfold over to the waiter, her eyes narrow as she looked up at the man.

Helena could not hide her smile, folding her napkin as she rested it on the white linen table, "I was first taken aback by your commanding wield of your firearm in my home. Dare say I found myself quite smitten by your authoritative way."

Myka turned her head to face that voice, the waiter bowing as he backed away from the table, and then reaching into her jacket pocket. "I forgave you for using me to get back in the warehouse, that day when I started to put the sphere back on the shelf …"

Myka stood up, her hand raised to quill Helena's rebuttal, she walked over to the other side of the table, taking Helena's jacket in one hand as she pulled the chair back. "Thank you," reaching around to place her hand on Myka's that lingered on her shoulder.

"We have had a few to drink and my room is waiting," Myka's warm breath caressing Helena's earlobe caused the older woman to stop.

"And you assumed I would be a willing muse? To follow your whim?" Helena turned her head, her lips brushing against the nearest skin. Her fingers resting over Myka's that had wrapped her arms from behind. Helena leaning back into the warmth of Myka's body pressed against hers.

"Too public here, come to the elevator with me," Myka saying against the shell of her ear, Helena realizing through a slight wine haze it was a demand more than a request. Helena stared at the black power jacket, Myka having reached behind, extending her hand behind her, her other holding the wrapped deserts in the other.

A long finger pressed the up button, Helena still staying behind the tall woman, and then resting her forehead on Myka's back shoulder. The soft movement of the threaded wool jacket brushed against her cheek as she felt Myka pulling her forward into the lift. Keeping their hands together, Helena moved behind Myka, the slight coolness from the stainless steel walls of the elevator seeped against her back, resting her cheek, again, on the back shoulder blade of Myka, her eyes closed, the only movement was her lips at each ding of the floors they passed.

Helena leaned against the door jamb of the elevator after they had reached Myka's floor, she watched through hooded eyes as Myka extended her hand to her, "I take it that you need to discuss Boone and my other liaison?" Helena sighed, pushing herself away from the door pushing at her shoulder.

"And what makes you think that?" Myka asking as she flexed her fingers, insisting at Helena's hand as she tilted her head to right.

"I once said how do you say goodbye to the one person who knows you best," Helena forcing a small smile to her lips, relishing the warmth of Myka's hand after entwining their fingers together.

"And what makes you remember that?" Myka's eyes are focused on pushing the keycard down into the lock on her hotel room.

"Because I know you as well, there is a fester boiling inside you, of needing to know why I choose …" Helena cleared her throat as she followed behind the taller woman. "Them over you." Helena had bowed her head, just barely forcing her feet inside the hotel room. She shivered as she felt Myka lean into her, their bodies pressing together, her eyes closing at the warmth. Then to snap open as she felt the whispered words next her ear as Myka snapped the lock on the door.

"I don't want to talk anymore about it tonight,"


End file.
